The 'After You' Affair
by Avirra
Summary: From the days when the Solo/Kuryakin partnership was still new.  At U.N.C.L.E., who do you really have to prove yourself to?  Your boss?  Your partner?  Or yourself?


**The 'After You' Affair**

It had started after their very first mission together. As soon as they both had been cleared by Medical, Napoleon leaned across the desk to speak to Illya.

"Why don't we go a few rounds at the gym? You can call when you've had enough."

The way that was worded ruffled the smaller man's feathers a bit, but he wondered to himself if perhaps he wasn't translating something quite correctly because the man's tone wasn't aggressive. Agreeing, he met Napoleon in the gym, calling it quits after about an hour because he considered it had been a good workout at that point. Besides, he had things that he had wanted to do in the lab that afternoon.

The second mission came and went. In its wake came a slight variation of the same offer.

"Come on, let's go a few rounds - you can call quits when you've had enough."

By this point, Illya was getting a far better feel for his partner and did not believe that Napoleon was being deliberately insulting, but somehow, the assumed superiority made him more irritated than an actual insult would have. Still, he accepted. It was two hours before he called a stop that time.

Outwardly, things were the same, but the Russian was stewing. That stew reached a boiling point following their third mission when Napoleon was detained by Medical as a precaution after T.H.R.U.S.H. had tried a new truth serum on him. Illya had been sitting to himself in the cafeteria, as usual, but overheard some of the remarks made by his fellow agents. The voices had been pitched so that his overhearing was intentional. He understood most of the veiled insults until one popped up that he was unfamiliar with. Coddled? He knew what a coddled egg was, of course, but wasn't sure how that word might be applied to himself. A dictionary supplied both the answer and the extra heat. They were of the opinion that Solo was babying him? Was he?

Illya let the majority of unflattering things said about him slide, but this prodded a very sensitive part of the blonde Russian. His pride. There was nothing he could do about it for so long as Napoleon was under Medical supervision though. So he waited.

The day that Napoleon was released from Medical, he came whistling into their shared space. Illya didn't so much as allow him to finish out the tune before he focused his ice-blue eyes on the man.

"Napoleon? Why do we not try a few rounds at the gym? Since you are newly released, it might help you to limber up and then you can call a stop to it whenever you become too tired."

The phrasing caused the 'alpha dog' inside of Napoleon to sit up and growl slightly, but he also recognized that the words were pretty similar to ones he had used himself. Looking deeply into the Russian's eyes, he could see that Illya's inner Siberian wolf had not taken the earlier challenges well either. _Well, well - this could be very interesting._

"Sure - why not?"

As the two men met on the mat, no-one really took much notice at first. Then came the sound that caught the attention of everyone in the area. A rather loud grunt followed by the sound of someone hitting the mat hard. Napoleon looked up at Illya and could've sworn that for a split-second, the Russian had smirked. If that look had been there though, it was gone as if it had never existed when Illya offered him a hand back up.

After a second of hesitation, Napoleon took the offered hand. There was a glitter in the older agent's eyes that Illya couldn't quite read.

"Shall we try that again?"

An audience slowly started to gather and eventually drew the attention of Harv Davis, the agent currently over the gym area. By that time, both Napoleon and Illya had said 'hello' to the mat on several occasions. Both men had traces of blood as well as some bruising starting to add color to their skin. Napoleon was being surprised over and over again at just how many different techniques and styles that Illya was familiar in. For his part, Illya couldn't help but admire the stamina Napoleon was showing as well as the slight smile that the man continued to wear as the minutes turned into hours.

Viewing the ongoing scene with slightly pursed lips, Davis turned to one of the agents watching.

"How long have they been at it?"

"No idea. At least two hours, because I've been here that long."

Frowning now, Davis reached over for the board where the men had signed in at the start of their session. The time written down made him look twice and double check his watch. Nearly three hours? That sounded less like a spar to him and more like a grudge match. Well, not in his gym.

"Agents Solo and Kuryakin - clear the mats."

Both agents turned in unison and with the look that they fixed on him? Davis suddenly realized he had automatically backed from them.

"Are we breaking some sort of rule, Agent Davis?"

"Well, no, Mister Solo, but -"

"Is there perhaps someone else that has reserved this area?"

"No, Mister Kuryakin."

"Then kindly do not interrupt us again."

"Shall we retake up where we left off?"

"Da."

When the two men were approaching their fifth straight hour and neither one still seemed inclined to call off the match despite the increasing number of marks, Davis decided that it was time to call in Mister Waverly.

Mister Waverly walked in and studied the scene. He also noted the large number of agents, secretaries, clerks and other assorted personnel that were now watching the contest between the two men. Turning to Davis, he gestured towards the mat.

"And how long has this been underway?"

"Four hours and fifty two minutes, sir."

To the shock of Davis, Waverly just nodded - and took a seat.

Not a soul in the room noticed it, but there was a bright spark in Waverly's eyes and a trace of a smile teased at the man's lips. He had literally searched the world over for a partner for Solo. In his opinion, Napoleon Solo was one of the best agents of his generation. Natural talent, spirit, an eagerness to learn and an unquenchable thirst for adventure. He always seemed in motion and he had, time after time, simply worn partners out or intimidated them so much that they might as well have been a traveling secretary instead of a co-agent.

His keen eyes took it all in. When one man went down, the other stopped and offered to either stop the bout or help the fallen one back up to his feet. His hearing was excellent and he picked up some of the whispers speculating about bad blood, but he saw no signs of that. Just two men with something to prove. Perhaps to each other, but more likely to themselves. He also noted with some satisfaction that more than a little respect was being given to the small Russian who was not only continually coming back for more, but who was also giving back as good as he was being given.

Keeping an eye on his watch periodically, Mister Waverly allowed the match to continue until exactly the six hour mark. At that time, he rose and spoke in his clear authoritative tones that carried so well without the need for raising his voice.

"Mister Solo - Mister Kuryakin. As much as I have enjoyed watching your impromptu display of martial skills, I have a job for the two of you. Please take the time to shower. I expect to see you both in my office in one hour."

In near perfect unison, the men answered their superior back.

"Yes, sir."

Then they turned and faced one another, eyes meeting and holding for several long seconds before Napoleon began to smile and Illya smiled in return. Bystanders wouldn't have noticed the difference between that and the other half-smiles that Kuryakin occasionally gave, but Napoleon could see the full force of that smile in those blue eyes. They didn't remind him of ice anymore - more like the pale blue of a warm spring sky. Reaching out their hands at practically the same moment, they both chuckled too softly to be heard by anyone else in the room as the hands clasped together firmly and remained that way for about three beats.

"Come on, tovarich. Let's go get cleaned up."

"Tovarich?"

Napoleon hesitated at that question.

"Did I say it wrong?"

The blue eyes got that smile in them again.

"No. No, you said it perfectly. After you, tovarich."

As the two men turned and headed for the showers, Mister Waverly nodded to himself and headed back to his office. His search had finally found the man that could match Solo in stubbornness and determination. The perfect partnership. Mission accomplished.


End file.
